From the Other Side of the Mirror
by willwrite4fics
Summary: From the point of view of a non-Joe hostage being rescued, this fic is something a bit different. What would a rescue look like to a hostage who doesn't her rescuers? What REALLY happens when the world can't see? Joes appear quickly in the fic.
1. Chapter 1

This is a slightly different fic written from the POV of rescued hostage. Two journalist have been kidnapped by terrorists somewhere in a rural area of the Middle East. They're being held for a undetermined amount of time by their captors. You'll see Joes later on, and these OC's will not reappear in further fics, one shot only.

This fic was inspired by CatShitOne. If you've never watched this privately made film, do it. Do it now, do it repeatedly, because CatShitOne is the awesome bomb. It answers that often asked question of "What if Beachhead was a bad ass bunny rabbit?" No, really, it kind of does. This fic does NOT recreate, nor follow the plot of CatShitOne. No elements of CatShitOne were used or copied in this work of fiction. I do not have any rights towards GI Joe nor the characters created by Hasbro. I make no funds from my writing of fics. All fics are subject to shipping stress but are measured by weight not volume(not even the volume put out by a certain Sgt major). Some settling may have occured. Your results may vary and please... don't try this at home.

Onto the fic.

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><p>Grace Harker tugged at her bindings again futilely. She didn't know how long until one of their captors would come back to brutalize her or beat poor Jack again. She was used to reporters being able to go anywhere with immunity. Jack had believed they'd be safe too, so it'd been a horrifying shock when a gang of terrorists descended on them without warning, screaming obscenities at her and beating both of them. Dragged into a van and tied up, the two hapless victims were quickly blindfolded and driven away for hours until they'd arrived "here".<p>

'Here' was a dirty chill room that they'd been locked in for what seemed like forever. The small window was covered with a heavy wooden shutter on the outside and peering through the small cracks only showed a dusty deserted street and the blank side of another decrepit building. Jack was beaten several times, in a casual manner that made it even more callous and cruel. There seemed no reason behind it, as they did nothing to provoke any attacks from the men. Grace shuddered and tried not to think about how she'd been treated. They had both been completely clueless as to what exactly was happening until they'd been sat up against a wall to have a picture taken.

"Give money! Much money you.. us give much money and things!" Grace finally understood that the men believed they would get ransom for them. She tried to plead that they were no one special and that they would give them money if they let them go. After another brutal attack, she learned not to talk unless they were asking her a question.

Curled into a corner of the brick room, Grace looked at Jack and whispered at him. "Jack... are you okay?"

Lifting his head, the lean cameraman nodded. "Just tenderized. I'm really sorry.. " He rubbed his face on the brickwork a little. "I should have fought them off... never should have let them take us. They're going to kill us both."

"No no..." She protested. "Someone will pay them some money and they'll let us go."

The look she was given was almost pitying. "Grace, we know who they are and they've beat the crap out of us. They'll kill us when no one pays, or when someone does pay, or when they get tired of keeping us." Jack obviously felt bad about telling her bad news. "Sorry.. I shouldn't have let them take us.."

The door to the room banged open and an angry man strode in and yelled at both of them in Arabic. Both hostages cringed but he satisfied himself with a open-handed swat to Grace's head, more yelling and then he left, slamming the door shut behind them.

"Grace?" Jack's whisper was a bare hiss in the dull silence of the room. "Are you okay?"

"No..." She shook her head and then pressed it against the cool stone of the wall. "No... I'm not.. I want to go home..."

".. me too..."

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><p>Grace would never be able to say what made her look at the narrow window in the wall. It was the wee hours of the morning and she couldn't say she heard something or saw something but maybe she felt the presence of someone.<p>

Peering up, she watched as a dark figure gingerly lifted a wooden shutter off the exterior and took it out of sight. There was no sound of it being set down. Grace found herself straining to hear, beginning to worry that she'd somehow gone deaf while she slept. When she straightened up, she listened with relief to the noise of her clothing scuffing across the stones. She looked fearfully towards the door then back at the window where the stranger was suddenly filling the entrance for an instant. He dropped to the floor nearly soundlessly.

"Who are you!" Her strained whisper made him hold up a cautioning hand as he padded past her, not even looking at her. He listened at the door briefly, then stepped over to Jack to loosen his bindings quickly. When Jack woke, a hard hand clamped over his mouth, muffling any outcry. A slight hiss warning the captive to stay quiet and the man freed Jack and pointed at Grace, moving himself back to the doorway instead of tending to either of them.

Jack untied her quickly and she staggered to her feet, eyes fastened on the stranger. He for his part, ignored her while he listened at the doorway. Suddenly he turned and motioned them into the corner with a few hand gestures, placing a finger to lips hidden under a ski mask.

As he moved to the door, Grace couldn't help but wonder... who was he and why he was here? Was he rescuing them or could he be worse than their kidnappers? Examining him as best she could in the darkened room, she could see he had military body armor on and a nasty looking rifle slung across his chest. Her first thought was that he was one of the UN soldiers, although she immediately dismissed the idea. The gear he wore was battered with the evidence of being used hard for years. The UN troops wouldn't have a mishmash of equipment, with the Czeck styled body armor, two different knee pads and a Soviet SKS rifle with a chinese scope. The most absurd bit was the ski mask, worn in the middle of a desert.

She heard someone coming to the room and squeaked softly as she huddled in the corner. When the door banged open, she cringed and watched one of the more brutal of the captors walk in looking for her. Before he could set eyes on her, the dark figure beside the door drifted to behind him, slipped powerful arms around and after a slight struggle and a rather ugly sounding crunch, dropped his body in a heap.

She blinked at the masked man, noticing the extended hand that he used to beckon them with, crooking two fingers at them to signal they should follow. "Quietly.." She hesitated and Jack took her by one arm to push her along. As soon as Jack moved her, the stranger slipped out through the doorway, disappearing down the dark hallway before they even stepped out. He reappeared again at the end, motioning urgently for them to move faster. Grace felt an irrational fear as they were escaping, feeling confused and somehow as if she would be caught and punished and perhaps it would be best to just go back to the room where it was safe.

Jack gave her a little shake. "Shhh.. come on.." His soft whisper woke her senses and she straightened and began to move under her own efforts. She was getting OUT of here right now, and if this stranger was helping her get out, great. If he was stealing her to the same fate elsewhere, she'd deal with that later.

Jack suddenly stopped as their rescuer held up a hand, peeping around the corner and then motioning for them to stay as he slipped away. Grace started forward and then stumbled backwards, muffling a scream of terror behind her fist shoved into her mouth. Their erstwhile rescuer was back with another of the kidnappers. He had a hand clamped over the man's mouth, muffling any outcry. A twist and both staggered into the wall, the terrorist slamming his opponent into the stones twice before he grappled him into a very uncomfortable headlock under one arm. Another twist and jerk and soft gagging noises started to issue from a partially crushed throat. Almost casually, the soldier slipped a large k-bar loose, paused a second to line it up just so, like a person trying to decide how to best divide a bit of cake between a pair of friends. Then he thrust it in the side of the neck, giving a funny little twist and holding on as the body thrashed and struggled in his arms. A slight wheeze was the ending statement from someone who had actually been walking and talking only a moment before. Grace wondered if he was one that had brutalized her or one that brought them water and hard bread to eat. Did he have a family or was his life one of kidnapping and beating innocents for money?

Jack pushed her again, and she noticed the man puffing out an annoyed breath and motioning again for her to move. They snuck out of the building and stopped all too soon for Grace's peace of mind. They were still against the building's outside wall for god's sake! She started forward and was waved back. She did pause but the urge to flee was too much and she scooted forward again, stepping out right in front of the walking guard who had _just_ turned to go back to other way. Another few seconds and they could have crossed behind him unseen.. and now he was opening his mouth to yell, staring down at her terrified face and listening to her soft whimpers of fear.

The thunk sounded so loud and the warm spray across her face made her shut her mouth and step backwards. Her soldier had stepped up and slammed the giant scary knife right into the guard's neck. Instead of stopping, he slammed a fist into the dying man's face twice, letting him fall down and kick a few times. Then he grabbed an arm and dragged him behind a pile of crates, bending down and doing something out of her sight that made the leg she could still see jerk around a few times before it quit. He kicked that stray limb behind the crates and waved them down the roadway. She stood there until he came back and grabbed her arm to tug her along.

"Dang fool woman..." The muttered grumble was so soft she almost missed it. The tugs on her arm got her moving and she stumbled along the road behind him until he turned loose. Even though she kept moving, he looked back often to make certain she hadn't stopped. Jack stayed behind her.

They moved along several dark streets, stopping at every corner or open spot. The stranger's motions for them to continue became more urgent the longer they took. Jack tugged her to a stop again, both of them sinking to the ground against a brick wall while the shadowy figure crouched at the corner, peering around carefully. This time his back stiffened up and he rose to the balls of his feet as he watched another of the guards patrolling the area. Instead of watching him until he left their space, he tensed and Grace could clearly hear the footsteps as they came closer and closer. A shadow formed and began to grow larger on the street in front of her as the guard approached step by fateful step.

She watched the guard's elbow as he stopped right at the corner. Their rescuer was flattened against the wall lying in wait for him to come within reach so he could stick the giant knife into him like the others. Grace held her breath because she knew he could hear her breathing.. he might even hear her heart as it was pounding through her chest.

Impossibly, he turned and walked slowly back up the street away from them. The steady footsteps grew softer and she took a soft breath before she passed out. Jack's tight grip was hurting her elbow but she didn't pull away. They all stayed completely immobile until the noise of the treads faded completely. Then they were beckoned with the now familiar motion of the two fingers and headed across the road. All three started across, the soldier peering up the street for the now-departed guard.

The silence and their attempted stealth made the gunshots and yells seem all that much louder when they erupted. Grace saw their would-be rescuer suddenly stand up straight, his back arching in pain as a bullet drove into his lower back. The ugly rifle was scooped up smoothly and he twisted to face a guard that had apparently been standing in a small alcove out of sight. A single shot rang out from the rifle and the guard slumped into a now unthreatening heap.

"Get movin'! Now! Gawd damn it.." Grace was shoved along the street and broke into a run. Jack caught up with her seconds later and all three of them raced down the streets. Adrenalin pushed all of her exhaustion out of her body. Dimly seen figures ran towards them and were cut down by bullets from their rescuer, all of it seen only vaguely from her terrified eyes. Grace had to dodge around a body in the street. Turning, she could see the soldier gliding along in a low slung trot, rifle held to his cheek as he took out any living being that came into view other than their tiny pack of three. He was limping slightly and she wondered how long he'd be able to keep up.

The edge of the small town appeared as they continued up the road in the dark. Shouts and noise began to fill the buildings receding behind them and they ran and ran and ran, no buildings now, just empty darkness on all sides and Grace had no idea where she was or which direction to go. The rough voice at her elbow scared her. "Left.. left.. off the road! Get off the dang road, ya useless little fluff!" She dodged sideways away from him and tripped into a dip beside the road. Her arm was snatched up and she felt her weight lifted back onto her feet. "Up.. move!"

"I can't..." Her lungs were burning and even the sheer terror that he would stick the huge knife into her if she didn't obey him immediately couldn't make her run any further. "Please... don't kill me!"

"Leave her alone.." Jack was there, standing next to her and supporting her with a kind arm tucked around her waist. "I'll help her.. come on Grace, we can't stop." He lifted most of her weight and continued along a path they could barely see. The brush got thicker until it was a struggle for them to push through the reaching branches.

"Faster.." The harsh whisper came from behind them as their soldier followed them, rifle still held at the ready. Grace twisted enough to look back at him. He wasn't even breathing hard yet, gliding over the uneven ground, turning to aim the rifle back down the path watching for enemies. She stumbled slightly and almost took Jack down with her. Her friend dragged her upright again. Another harsh comment sent them to the left as the path divided. "Keep goin'!" Grace turned to look again and saw him stop and crouch at the first bend in the trail. Suddenly instead of fearing him, she feared he would abandon them. Jack pulled her along with him as he continued as fast as her exhausted legs would carry her.

They broke into a clearing and stumbled to a halt. "Jack... which way? What do we do?" Grace managed to keep her voice to a low whisper despite the lack of evidence of anyone out here. "Where are we?"

Jack was gulping in air, turning a circle as he searched for any sign of a path to follow. "I don't know.. " he hissed urgently. "There's got to be a trail..." His panic was barely under control.

A slight scuffing noise made them both whirl, Grace muffling a fearful cry as she saw a terrible figure come gliding out of the bushes without warning. Almost immediately she recognized the smooth run and reached out to grasp at the soldier's arm. "Where do we go? Who are you?"

He batted her hands away, impatiently shoving them both to one side. "Move... no time." He herded them unerringly to a barely visible path. "Up.. go... don't go back down that trail, it's booby-trapped now." Jack scrambled up the trail and she tried to follow. Her limbs felt so heavy she didn't know if she'd be able to make it much further. The only light was from a half moon overhead, casting a dim shadowy light on swaying bushes and scrubby trees. After another blur of climbing over rocks and scrambling up trails, Grace suddenly fell, her legs refusing to carry her another step. Jack heard her soft cry and came stumbling back to her.

He put a hand up to push the hard grip off her arm as the impatient soldier tried to force her back to her feet. Jack's voice rose slightly as he protested. "She can't! Grace needs to rest!" He tried to hover over Grace's panting form. "Leave her alone... just give us ten minutes to rest."

Cursing softly under his breath, their rescuer looked at the two gasping for breath at his feet and then suddenly turned to move a few feet back down the trail. "Five minutes... damn ya'll..." He crouched slightly, looking through the darkness, tension and anger evident in every line of his body. She watched him reach up and tug at a strap that had been repaired rather inexpertly with a bit of wire. The beat-up kevlar body armor was shifted back into place with another tug and a soft grumble. She watched him reaching to his lower back and wincing. "Dang it.. " She saw him look at his hand and grunt. Even in the dim light she could see the dark blood covering his hand.

Before she could ask if he was okay, there was a shout from in the distance. Grace tried to get to her feet but the soldier waved her back down. He stood, intently listening to the voices drifting to them faintly. Jack reached to put his arms around Grace and they sat still, trying to tell where the voices were coming from and more importantly, if they were getting closer. All three waited silently for a few minutes that seemed to stretch into hours.

Grace jumped and gasped when a low explosion sounded through the night. Before she could breathe out again, the soldier was up and urging them to move. Whatever had blown up down the path they'd taken, it had not reassured the man at all. Instead he was pulling them both to their feet and shoving them uphill. Jack staggered but stayed upright. Grace continued to fall every few steps, her abused body refusing to carry her any further despite her fear.

The soldier continued to push her along, hissing at her angrily when she fell again. Finally he slung the heavy rifle strap around his chest and grabbed her arm. She cringed away from him but he hefted her up to her feet and suddenly ducked down and lifted her over his shoulders. She felt the sturdy body jerk upwards to settle her into place. He hooked his right arm around one of her legs and wrapped a powerful hand around one of her arms to hold her in place across his back. It wasn't the most comfortable way to be carried on her part but she was afraid to protest. As soon as he had her positioned, he bounded up the trail behind Jack. Her friend was struggling but still moving determinedly along. At times Jack went to all fours to pull himself over rocks but he kept going.

Gracie clutched at the kevlar vest as she bounced on her rescuer's back. She blinked as she suddenly noticed the darkness beginning to lift. Lifting her head to peer around, she thought she could see the edge of sunrise creeping up on one of the horizons. There was another shout from far away and she grabbed tighter as the soldier stopped and twisted to listen. After a moment she could hear more voices behind them. The soldier snarled under his breath and headed back up the trail, crowding behind Jack in an attempt to force him to move faster.

"Ah can't carry both of ya'll... move it!" The growled orders made Jack increase his efforts to move quickly but Grace could hear the occasional voice growing closer. The light increased as morning came and the soldier began to crouch as he ran, trying to stay out of sight. From her perch on his back, she could turn her head and watch their back trail and so she was the first of the three to see one of the trackers following them as he came over a slight ridge. Her gasp of fear made the soldier pause and turn to look.

The distant figure shouted and pointed, spotting them through the light of the sunrise. Grace couldn't understand anything he shouted, but noted him looking back behind himself as if he shouted for others to hurry. They would overtake the three, then they would probably take them all back to more beatings and abuse and she wasn't certain she could take any more. Her paniced grasping at his arms made him swat upwards at her. She tried to force herself to calm down. The first crack of a rifle shot and the whine of the bullet passing within feet of them destroyed what little composure she had left. Her whimpers grew louder even as her soldier crouched into the brush, darting quickly through sparse limbs to catch up to Jack who had paused to look back for them. "Go!" sent Jack scurrying along, fear giving him energy that desperation had not.

More rifle shots sang out, although the bullets didn't come so close. The soldier paused and dug into a pocket in his pants to pull out a small hand mirror. Tilting it around, he seemed to be signaling the empty hills above them. After only a moment, he tucked the mirror away and continued up the path.

The next time a follower popped into sight behind them, Grace couldn't help the fearful cry. "Look out! They're coming! They're coming right now!" Ignoring her words, the tireless man carrying her continued, seemingly unconcerned about the enemy lifting a rifle to his shoulder to aim at them, their forms now exposed by the thin bushes they were trying to use as cover. Grace closed her eyes, waiting for the bullets to begin hitting her.

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><p>End Chapter<p>

Yes, it's a cliffhanger. That's at least the same as my other fics. How does it look so far, and is there anyone who hasn't recognized the Joe yet?


	2. Chapter 2

I own no rights to GI Joe nor it's characters, and I recieve no monies for my fanfiction writing.

Continued from previous chapter's cliffhanger...

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><p>Being carried over the shoulders of a filthy soldier, Grace wasn't certain whether she was safer or in more danger. When one of the brutal terrorists popped into sight behind them, she couldn't help the fearful cry, "Look out! They're coming! They're coming right now!" Ignoring her warning, the tireless man carrying her continued, seemingly unconcerned about the enemy lifting a rifle to his shoulder to aim at them, their forms now exposed by the thin bushes they were trying to use as cover. Grace closed her eyes, waiting for the bullets to begin hitting her. When the rifle shot sounded, she winced despite feeling nothing. Her eyes flicked open in time to see the distant man fall over, blood evident all over his neck and chest.<p>

"Keep quiet." With those two short words, she clamped her lips shut and watched their back trail as he carried her along into an area of thicker bushes. Instead of continuing up the obvious path, he managed to catch back up to the fleeing Jack and directed him to a smaller trail. Grace heard more shots, but saw no more attackers. She didn't understand exactly what had happened until they emerged in a clearing surrounded by large boulders.

The tall lean man hiding there turned to glance at them. His face was covered by a dirty neckerchief. His clothing was not only nondescript and mismatched, it was also dirty enough to obscure anything that would have identified it. She thought she could see blondish curls poking out along the side of his face. His eyes traveled over all three of them then turned back to aim down a sniper rifle. After a second of absolute stillness, he squeezed off another shot, making a satisfied little grunt as he watched the results in his scope.

Grace was dumped onto the ground suddenly. A rough hand made certain she didn't land too hard, but she still landed on the hard packed sand solidly enough to jolt her. Jack knelt next to her immediately. "Grace... you okay?" His hands checked her over quickly. "I thought you might have have gotten shot. Are you okay?"

She pushed his hands aside. "I'm fine..." Sitting up, she watched the two soldiers consult almost silently in soft voices. The new man was leaner, without body armor. He tilted his head and peered at her soldier's back and raised an eyebrow in query. Grace was startled to see the size of the dark stain over his lower back. "Is he hurt badly?"

Jack looked over. "It can't be serious, he carried you. Maybe it's not his blood." He sat on the ground next to her and scooted to be able to put an arm around her waist. "Do you think they're rescuing us?"

Grace shivered. "Of course. Why else would they come get us? They fought off those.. those creeps and terrorists and shot some of them! They'll take us to the American Embassy and..." Her eyes brightened slightly. "And we can do an interview showing true heroes."

Looking at the hard eyes and stiff posture of the two soldiers, Jack wondered but didn't comment. The thinner of the two had gone back to check for any pursuit again while the first was tucking a piece of cloth under the bloodstained clothing. From the way he winced as he put the makeshift bandage in place, Jack doubted the blood came from one of their attackers. He distracted Grace by fussing over a nasty bruise on her cheek.

After another low conversation between the two soldiers, the first snorted and nodded towards the two civilians. The sniper walked over to them after a last comment to the heavier built man. His eyes flickered over Grace and Jack with an air of disinterest. Slinging his rifle, he reached to tug her to her feet and suddenly picked her up in surprisingly powerful arms. "What...?"

"Shh." That single syllable was the extent of the conversation that passed between them in the next fifteen minutes. Her soldier was drifting along behind them as they descended the back of the hill, Jack scrambling to keep up as the sniper cradled her in indifferent arms. Grace peered over one dirty shoulder to watch her soldier beginning to show his injury. He'd begun to limp worse although he kept up with his burdened companion and the exhausted Jack with ease. When they came upon to a clearing, they stopped and waited silently as the burly soldier came slipping by to glide around the parked Jeep, checking carefully before looking back to the rest of the party. A jerk of his chin brought them out of hiding and Grace was deposited into the back seat of the vehicle. Jack leaned on the side while the sniper got behind the wheel. Obviously out of patience with his two rescued civilians, the soldier simply picked the photographer up and dumped him roughly into the back seat next to Grace.

When the engine coughed to life, Grace took a tight hold on the seat to keep from jouncing out entirely. The track they followed could barely be called a goat path, much less a road. As long as it was taking them away from the horrors she'd left behind, she couldn't care less. The pitifully coughing Jeep engine turned to a full roar as they bounced onto an actual road. As they sped up, heading down an unmarked lane, Grace twisted to look behind them, wondering if any of her kidnappers were still following or if they'd all fallen to the sniper bullets.

Jack leaned forward and grabbed the first soldier's shoulder. "Where are you taking us? Who are you guys?" His hand was brushed off roughly. "No, you have to tell us..." A hard gaze from under the dirty mask caught his eyes as their rescuer turned to glare at him. Jack swallowed. "Or well... you don't have to I guess..." Jack sat back in the seat and the glinting brown eyes shifted to look Grace over. He rummaged for a second and passed a canteen back. The water that was in it was full of dust and warm, but it tasted better than anything short of a margarita to Grace's parched throat. Jack took a few swallows as well and handed it back. Rather than drink, the man capped it and put it away again, turning his wary attention to the surrounding desert and ignoring the passengers in the back.

Grace tried to watch as well, but huddled against Jack's side, hoping that wherever they ended up, it would be better than the dirty room they'd been taken out of.

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><p>Rough voices awakened her and she sat upright, clutching her shirt with a nervous hand. The Jeep was coming to a halt next to a neatly dressed guard. She peered through gritty eyes at the guard, recognizing the uniform and the light blue helmet. She grabbed Jack to shake him awake. "Jack... Jack! It's UN soldiers! We're saved!"<p>

The big soldier in the front seat twisted to glare at her, pointing one dirty hand. "Shush." She sat back in the seat, her eyes wide again.

The sniper was still driving and he exchanged a few low words with the UN troops before they were passed through to a encampment. Grace considered throwing herself out of the Jeep as they passed by a section of the camp with several U.S. flags displayed. Only the speed of the vehicle made her clutch at the seat rather than jumping. When they came to a halt, she started to get up anyway and was pushed roughly back into the seat. The soldier looked annoyed with her and pointed again. "Stay."

Looking at the sniper who'd already climbed out and was now hefting his rifle carefully in his arms, she sat back down slowly. The soldier stepped out stiffly, still keeping his eyes on her. He pointed at her one last time and then exchanged a nod with the sniper. As he walked away, the sniper narrowed icy blue eyes at both of them, almost daring them to try leaving the Jeep. Grace huddled back next to Jack.

"What are they doing, Grace?" Jack was looking around. "That's a U.S. Marine right over there!" He started to stand and wave and the sniper snarled at him and swung a hand. The buffet might not have been that hard but it got the point across and Jack dropped back in the seat next to Grace. "Okay.. no no... we're staying here." Looking disgruntled at his guard duty, the sniper went back to standing and glaring at anyone nearby. All the UN troops in their general area were giving curious looks at the Jeep and the two occupants, plus their filthy guard.

Grace twisted to find the soldier, spotting him standing with some of the UN troops. One of the men talking with him seemed to be an officer of some sort, and they were quickly joined by a man in a business suit. Twisting her hands nervously, Grace wondered what exactly was happening. As she watched, the soldier began to grow more agitated, waving the powerful arms.

Even though the suited official seemed unconcerned, the gravelly voice got louder. "That ain't whut we was promised! That's HALF the amount we could get, gawd damn ya'll cheap bastards!" Jaw clenched in anger, he turned to glare over towards the Jeep and it's occupants. "Fuck ya'll... " His head lowered slightly as he looked at the dirt. After a few seconds and more low talk from the official, he flung his arms in the air. "Fine! Sonnabitch, don't you try givin' us that worthless local script neither! Be francs or American dollars." The official nodded in a practiced manner, obviously satisfied handing over a small bundle.

A long few minutes passed and then the businessman headed over towards them, followed a step behind by their soldier. He didn't look very happy but when he drew close, he gave a sharp nod to his companion. The sniper scowled but walked away, the two of them muttering to each other as they walked off to the side. Their low discussion distracted Grace from the first words of the well dressed man talking to her and Jack.

"... of course, we'll have you examined by our medical personnel, and you'll have a chance to make any phone calls but we already have sent a runner to the US authorities based here. I'm certain there's to be a few formalities to establish your identities, but I don't expect any issues." The manicured hand reached out to Grace and she looked at it for a moment. "Ma'am? You're quite safe now... " Grace finally allowed him to assist her out of the filthy vehicle. Looking over at the pair of oddly disparate men that had brought them here, she saw one disdainful look before the big soldier turned back to something his friend said, scowling even more over something.

"But... but..." Her protests were ignored and soothing words accompanied her to a medical tent where her hurts were tended and her dirty clothing was replaced. She had just pulled on a loose set of pants and long blouse when raised voices caught her attention. Draping a wrap over her shoulders and clutching it in front, she peeped through a crack between the curtains.

One of the medical personnel was trying to convince her soldier to allow him to treat his wounds. From the sounds of the argument, he was failing. Leaning to be able to see better, she wondered if she should go out and insist he let the injuries be taken care of.

"Get away from me..." One heavy hand brushed the medic away from reaching for the mask. "Just gimme some bandaging."

The medic tried to tug at the lower edge of the back armor. "Just let me check the wound then, surely a hero who rescued two people deserves the best treatment. You realize she's a reporter, you'll probably be famous for rescuing her." Grace was certain she saw a stiffening in the soldier's posture. "Once we get you cleaned up, I'm sure there's going to be plenty of people wanting to talk to you."

Suddenly turning aggressive, the voice turned from annoyed to nasty. "Stop playin' grab-ass on me, you prick!" The soldier moved to the side enough to knock into an instrument tray. "You buncha pansy-assed useless pogues playing around up here oughta try goin' out and workin' fer a dollar some time. Give you some balls." He elbowed the medic further away. "Gimme some medical supplies so I can get outa here."

The medic's face had gone red. "Look, you can't talk to me like that!" Instead of an apology, he was treated to a sneer and a comment involving his parentage and physically impossible acts. "You piece of human garbage! I'm trying to help you and you... you talk to me.. "

"Yeah? Whatcha gonna do?" Looming over the smaller man, the soldier gave a sneer. "Gonna shake yer finger at me?"

The medic had been pushed too far and shoved ineffectively against the broad chest. "Ignorant American scum! Filthy..." He didn't get a chance to continue as the soldier leaned in and spat in his face. "OUT! Get OUT!" His voice went shrill as he cursed the man in sputtering tones.

Grace felt her breath grow shallow, convinced she was about to witness even more violence. But the soldier was backing out of the tent instead.

"All Ah wanted was a couple gawd damned bandages... fuckin' UN Peacekeepers..." His snarls had little affect on the blue dressed medic who followed him to the doorway of the tent.

"We don't have to treat mercenaries... use your 'rewards' to go get treatment." The disparaging tones made the soldier kick a boot's worth of dirt at him. "Get out of here!"

Jack was nearly knocked over ducking to enter the medical tent. He stepped out of the way as the filthy man stalked past, still wearing the mismatched armor and blood stained clothing. Jack had to step back out of his path and flinched when he was treated to a disdainful sneer. Jack turned to the medic who was brushing dust off his pants. "What was that? Isn't he hurt? That's the guy who rescued us! Who are they?"

Giving one last pat to his clothing, the medic scowled at the back of the soldier as he rejoined the tall sniper loading the Jeep up. "They're nothing but mercenaries. They are hardly rescuers when they only do stuff for the pay. I'm certain that if one of the terrorist cells had offered more money, they'd cheerfully have delivered you two to them rather than us."

Coming out into the open, Grace looked at him for a moment before turning to gaze at the two men who were just putting two last boxes into their beat-up vehicle. She noted how the bigger of the two still favored his back even as he continued to heft a box of ammunition into the back seat she'd recently ridden in. "Mercenaries... but I thought... I mean, I... they're Americans... aren't they U.S. soldiers?" She took a single step before stopping. Her eyes searched out the foreign made equipment and clothing, the lack of identifying insignia and the masked status of both of the men. How had she assumed they were US Military?

"Americans maybe... couldn't be US military. They wouldn't be carrying foreign-made rifles. And out of uniform? Bah. Just some money-hungry bounty-hunters. Good riddance." The medic turned back into his tent, leaving the two civilians to stare after the two strangers.

Grace took a breath. "But I thought..." Her voice trailed off. She'd been so glad to be rescued, had she assumed heroism on the part of a man only interested in the reward money she represented?

Jack sighed. "You thought they were noble heroes in shining armor? Come to rescue the damsel? Sometimes it's really all about the money, Grace. The world is full of people like that. Come on... let's get you down to the US camp. We can get something to eat before they start asking us the thousands of questions they'll have."

She let him guide her away, still watching as the men climbed into the dented Jeep. Her soldier still moved stiffly and she could imagine how he'd grunt in annoyance as he settled into the front passenger seat. She wondered absently if the seat was still wet with blood. Did it really matter _who_ it was that had brought them out of certain death?

Her voice was low and quiet as she spoke. "They're still heroes to me." Jack glanced at her in question and she finally looked away. "Nothing... just... nothing." Even as she heard the battered vehicle coughing to life, she didn't turn to watch the two leaving. After a moment, the dust from their departure drifted over them and she turned her attention to the diplomats walking out to greet her and Jack, full of apologies for their capture and ill treatment. She had other things to occupy her than the dysfunctional moral compass of some dirty mercenary.

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><p>End chapter<p>

Only one more chapter to wrap up and identify the Joes and fill in some details. Although I'm pretty sure everyone recognizes who they are... lol.


	3. Chapter 3

This is the last chapter, revealing the fic from the Joe's instead of what the hostage has been seeing. It should answer any questions about whether some Joes have jumped ship to become dirty mercenaries. This wraps up this odd little fic. I hope everyone enjoyed it and thank you to everyone who read and big huge thanks to all who reviewed. Also, big thanks go to those who helped me out by beta-reading it in early stages, especially Karama9.

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><p>The Jeep made it to a distant bit of desert. As the engine died, the sniper driving clicked the ignition off and gave a sigh of frustration. "Next time, Beach... try not to catch any bullets. You know the UN personnel dislike mercenaries." He climbed out of the driver's seat and began to pull items out to pack up, leaving much of the supplies behind.<p>

Beachhead grunted in irritation at his companion. "Yeah yeah... well, try corrallin' two damn stupid civilians yerself next mission, LowLight. And one a scared girl with no danged sense. Hell, she walked right out in front of a damn guard." He winced and reached around to his back. "Gawd dammit... Ah'm bleedin' again."

LowLight, having already checked the wound and found it minor enough if painful, snorted at him. "At least you're not bleeding on your _own_ boots this time."

Tossing a stray ration pack at the sniper's head, Beach rolled his eyes. "Shut it. You weren't carrying the little chit up the damn mountain. Naw, you was up top, waitin' around instead of pickin' off pursuit like you was supposed to be doin'."

"I picked them off as soon as you brought them in range. Besides..." LowLight paused as he finished zipping the false paperwork they'd been issued for the mission into a packet. "... besides, you were limping like a three-legged dog when you first came into view."

"Ah was doin' no such thing!" Beach protested before he saw the glint in the sniper's eyes. Rolling his eyes again at falling for the taunts, the Ranger sighed and sat in the passenger seat to wait. "Bastard. Remind me again why we hadda go rushin' to rescue some media princess and her tagalong? There's plenty of danged UN prissyboys here." His gaze traveled around the completely empty landscape filled with nothing larger than the knee-high scrub brush and an occasional lizard darting about in the hot sunlight. "What gawd damn time is it?" He looked at his wristwatch and then shook it. "Stupid piece a crap."

LowLight checked his own watch. "We're early for dust off. WildBill will be here." He looked around the lonesome desert. "You know better than I do that the UN can't get caught sending operatives into sensitive areas. Especially not openly carrying weapons on a rescue mission, killing citizens, even if they were terrorists who kidnap American journalists and blow up roads and schools on a regular basis. That's why we exist."

Beach interrupted his dry speech. "Yeah yeah, GI Joe exists to provide troops that can engage in secret operations that the United States can deny if it's inconvenient for them to have a bunch of kickass soldiers in someone else's country without authorization. Still be nice if'n the folks appreciated us a little."

LowLight was finding too much amusing about Beach's grumpiness. "Well, you're only feeling ornery over this mission because some bastard shot you in the ass. Otherwise, you'd be strutting around because you rescued some helpless lady from deadly peril."

Beach couldn't quite suppress the smile that twitched the corners of his mouth upwards. He turned it into a scowl. "He didn't shoot me in the danged ass. A bit higher and the damn bullet would have taken one of my kidneys. Be laughin' up a storm then, wouldn't you?"

"Oh good lord. You sound like a girl. A bit lower and it would have put a nice little scar on your right buttcheek. Be interesting to have that stitched up." LowLight gave one of his rare grins at the Ranger. "Give it up, Sergeant major. Considering how many hostiles were in that little burg, you know you kicked ass and got out easy. We should have been sending in half a troop with air support. You like getting to go sneaking in and steal things out from under the noses of the enemy."

Struggling to not smirk, Beach gave a little shrug. "Well... maybe just a little. They was lax as hell in their security though. The shutter hinges were on the danged outside of the windows! Who the hell failed to check that?"

Chuckling at the outrage in Beachhead's voice, LowLight straightened up. "People trying to keep hostages in, not sneaky ninja-like Rangers out." Before Beach could get too angry, he nodded at the horizon. "There's WildBill right on schedule. Got your ditty bag?"

Grabbing up the satchel containing his own equipment, Beach still glared at the sniper. "Ain't no need to be callin' names like that." His eyes turned to the heavy chopper lumbering it way across the sky towards them. "About danged time." He shielded his eyes against the rush of sand blown up by the rotors and followed LowLight as he ran up to climb aboard. LiftTicket gave them both grins and nods from his seat behind the door gun. "Lift off, area is clear of hostiles. Mission complete." BeachHead stepped forward to give WildBill instructions on the area and was given the quick extraction route. He nodded and moved back to the cargo area again, taking a seat on the opposite side of the transport as LowLight. The sniper had settled in behind the second door gun, relaxing back in the seat and watching with indifference as the desert passed by underneath the speeding helicopter.

Lifeline immediately homed in on the Ranger. "LowLight said you've got a GSW, how bad is it?" He was already holding his medical bag and hovering.

Beach glared at the oblivious sniper. "The fuck? Damn sniper don't say two words a gawd damned week and goes on a mission with me and turns into chatty-Cathy? Keep yer mouth shut."

LowLight's head leaned back although he didn't bother to turn around. "You _were_ trying to get medical help at the UN camp."

"Well yeah but..." Beach sputtered to a stop. "You ain't gotta go tattlin' to Lifeline!" He reached up to brush the medic's hand away from the buckle on his shoulder. "I got that." He began to unfasten the mismatched tactical vest, unwinding the bit of wire holding the strap in place. "I hope someone brought _my_ gear. This shitty junk's been drivin' me nuts." As the straps came loose, he pulled the kevlar loose and held it up to show Lifeline. "Look at this seam! Comin' apart like a cheap pair of pants." He fingered the chest piece. "The plates ain't even secured, been slippin' to the side the whole goddamn time." Making a face, he tossed it out of the chopper door.

LiftTicket leaned to watch it falling the quarter mile to the desert floor passing beneath them. "Probably shouldn't toss stuff out like that."

"Ain't nothin' out there to hit 'cept maybe a lizard." Beach fished a roll of money out of the front of his dirty shirt. He gazed at it a moment quietly.

LowLight glanced around and spotted the reward money. "Hey... do I get half of that? I mean, I was the other mercenary."

Beach scowled at him. "You? All you did was take potshots at targets I brought to you, while I carrying that fluff on my danged back. While bleedin'!"

LowLight looked pleased at the results of his needling. "Oh I see. You just want to keep it for yourself." He twisted to look across to LiftTicket. "Did you tell him how much those local girls charge a night?"

Ignoring the angry sputtering Ranger, LiftTicket pretended to think it over. "I'm not sure, they might charge extra if he doesn't shower. If he gets two girls, think he'd share?"

Beach stood up and pitched the roll of money out of the open door. LiftTicket watched the bits of paper fluttering in the downwash of the rotor blades before it all disappeared behind them. "There. Now ya'll ain't gotta make no more suggestions. And I hear you sayin' I was hiring hookers, I'll beat yer asses myself." He grunted at LiftTicket who lifted his hands in surrender. "Some of the local kids will probably find it scattered all over now. Good use fer it." He settled back into the seat with further grumbling. Beach stretched slightly and winced, putting a hand around to his back.

Lifeline, having wisely stayed out of the entire squabble, reached to peel the cloth away from the ragged edge of the wound. "Didn't you even clean it out?" He began swabbing betadine scrub over the bloody wound. "It's not that bad, just messy. It could get infected."

"I haven't had a chance and the damn camp medics wouldn't do it." Beach grumped and tried not to jump as the stinging antiseptic was poured over the raw flesh. He glanced up and saw Lifeline's disapproval. "Wasn't their fault totally neither. We was undercover as a pair of unsavory types, remember. Wasn't much to make them want to help us out." He looked away in embarrassment. "I might have... uhh... spit on one of them..."

Lifeline paused. "What? You spit on a medic? By accident?"

"Uuuhhhh, no not so much. I kinda spit in his face." Beach's eyes flicked up to Lifeline's disgusted expression. "He was startin' to sound all admirin' and askin' a bunch of questions. I hadda make him not wanna know nothin' about us!"

"And you chose to hide your identities by spitting on someone." Lifeline went back to taping a clean bandage into place. "It's no wonder they didn't want to treat you."

"I didn't want 'em to treat me no how. I just wanted some danged bandages to stick on it to stop mosta the bleedin'." Beach twisted to try to look at the wound and winced. Lifeline reached up to push his head back around. "I just wanna see!"

"You don't need to see. Just sit. It'll take some stitches when we get back to base, but it doesn't look too bad. Clean it and stitch it and antibiotics. You got off easy. It didn't hit anything important." Lifeline finished taping the gauze over the cleaned wound.

Beach snorted loudly. "Didn't hit nothin' important? Ain't I important?" Lifeline's exasperated sigh made him smirk. Settling back in the seat, he leaned slightly and watched out the doorway as they sped towards the airstrip to get transport back to the United States.

LowLight turned to gaze somberly at him. "What's important is that we got the mission done, the civies didn't get killed and the bad guys did. Now we're going home until we're needed again. That's the important thing. Right Sergeant major?"

Beach nodded. "Damned right it is. Doin' our job to the best of our abilities."

LowLight couldn't help but add one last remark. "Yep. Not the fact that you got shot in your fat ass... again."

"Dang it, sniper! Ah'll throw you OUTA this chopper!"

"Might make your ass hurt. Better stay sitting down."

"BEACH! Sit down!"

"He started it!"

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><p>News article posted as a small blurb, mostly unnoticed by the general public...<p>

Rueters:

Yesterday a joint mission by the UN resulted in the retrieval of two US journalists from a suspected terrorist camp. Both are said to be doing well and in good spirits. No UN troops were injured during the mission.

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><p>END<p>

I hope you enjoyed. A little sideline of what the Joes do when they aren't fighting Cobra in particular.


End file.
